The Baroness was queening it in her salon aboard The Far Traveler.
With her were Grimes and Francis Delamere, Prince Regent of Melbourne, Dog Star Line Resident Manager, on Morrowvia, Company Commodore. Delamere, Grimes was amused to note, stood considerably in awe of the Baroness despite his fancy uniform—of his own design—and fancy titles. He was prepared to go along with the story that she was a little innocent woolly lamb and Drongo Kane the big bad wolf.
He said, "It is indeed fortunate, madam, that you realized that the beings revivified by Captain Kane were, in spite of their names and false background stories, of canine and not human ancestry."
She smiled forgivingly but condescendingly. "The correct form of address, Resident Manager, is 'Your Excellency.' As an itinerant representative of the planet state of El Dorado I am entitled to ambassadorial status. But it is of no real importance."
"I beg your pardon, Your Excellency. But how did you guess that the alleged descendants of the Little, Pettifer, Grant and James women were not what they claimed to be?"
With conscious nobility she gave credit where credit was due. "It was Captain Grimes, actually, who noticed the . . . discrepancies. The way that they swam, using the stroke that, when used by humans, is called a dog paddle. The way that they shook themselves when they emerged from the water. And the odor from their bodies. Have you ever smelted a wet dog?" '
"Not since I settled on this planet, Your Excellency. You will appreciate that dogs would not be popular pets here." He took an appreciative sip of the large Martini with which he had been supplied. "Meanwhile—with some reluctance, I admit, but in accordance with your request—we have not dealt harshly with Captain Kane. He has been given twenty-four hours to get his ship, his people and himself off Morrowvia. He will have to pay compensation to Queen Anne and her subjects. In addition he has been charged with the costs of the police expedition to Stratford and has been fined the maximum amount for breaching the peace."
"And his dupes?" asked the Baroness. "His—if I may use the expression—cat's paws?"
"They, Your Excellency, have been returned to cold storage until such time as we receive instructions from the Government of the Federation regarding their disposition. It is my own opinion that the Founding Father having, as it were, created them, put them in reserve in case his first experiment did not work out. But the need for them never arose."
Grimes said, "Let sleeping dogs lie."
Big Sister's voice came from the playmaster. "Let the lying dogs sleep."
Surely, thought Grimes, only a human intelligence could be capable of such an horrendous play on words. He wondered how he had ever regarded Big Sister as an emotionless, humorless machine.